


The Fred and George Story

by HyperCaz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Gen, Humor, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 02:37:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperCaz/pseuds/HyperCaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fred and George deal with typical and unusual challenges. Plain silly pre-HBP fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. OWLs

Fred and George Weasley were sitting in the kitchen of The Burrow, dreading the arrival of Hogwarts letters, especially in front of the family. Well, not studying for the OWLs can still find a way to bite you in the arse, usually the in the form of a wooden spoon wielded by their mother. Percy was upstairs, taking an unusual amount of time to brush his hair. Ginny was in the bathroom moping about the ringlets her evil brothers (namely Fred and George) had cursed on her via a nasty potion. No one knew where Ron was - chances were he was writing a lengthy fan letter to the Chudley Cannons.   
  
Mr. Weasley was out taking care of raids, so that left only their mum sitting placidly across from them. Her eyes scanned the sky as if squinting could make the Hogwarts owl fly faster. Conveniently at this time, a huge explosion erupted upstairs.   
  
"Wasn't me," Fred said immediately.   
  
"Or me," added George in a bored way.   
  
Ginny's blackened head appeared from the landing. Taking this as a hair perm gone wrong, Mrs. Weasley dashed upstairs to help her daughter.   
  
Fred turned to his twin. "Come on, admit it. You rigged the taps in the bathroom, didn't you?"  
  
"Whoever smelt it dealt it," George replied simply.   
  
Suddenly, they both looked up at the sky outside. Ominously, an owl come swooping in. It landed, waiting for the loaded envelope to be taken off. George reached for it with trembling fingers. He paused, took a deep breath and tried again. He tore off the envelope and threw it towards the end of the table.   
  
Fred poked it, as though it would explode, commenting dryly, "Heh, look, Hogwarts letters."   
  
His brother bent over and inspected it carefully. "Do you think Mum'll notice if these don't  _arrive_  until later?"   
  
"Probably not," Fred supplied hopefully, pocketing the letters. "Come on, let's check these out."   
  
So they climbed past Percy's room, past the bathroom where they could hear Ginny shrieking and past Ron's room from where they heard 'Quidditch World Cup! Lalalala! Quidditch World Cup!' being belted out by an extremely excited younger brother, even though they didn't have the tickets just yet. George wondered for a moment where the heck Ron had gotten that ruddy owl he liked to sing to.   
  
Finally, they reached their door with the "danger" sign flashing red and orange. Fred opened it with a good solid kick and both went inside. The door shut itself, growling. You had to feel sorry for that door. A nasty hex when the twins were only five had changed it forever. Now it had brains. And teeth. Percy hated that door - he still rubbed his rump whenever he saw it from down the stairs.   
  
Fred set the fat envelope on the bedside table between their beds. Both stared at it for a moment, then George sat down and opened it.   
  
He scanned the first few letters. "Just your usual reminders that the Hogwarts Express does leave from Kings Cross and not Albania, blah blah blah..."   
  
He paused and held up the letter with his name. Wordlessly, he handed over Fred's and both tucked in. Fred groaned. George groaned. They traded letters. Fred began laughing.   
  
"What is so funny?" demanded George.   
  
His twin grinned. "They're identical."   
  
And so they were. George put them side-by-side and smirked.   
  
 _Astronomy - Dreadful  
Care of Magical Creatures - Poor   
Charms - Acceptable   
Runes - Dreadful_  ("Never knew why we signed up for that," Fred commented.)   
 _Defence Against the Dark Arts - Poor  
History of Magic - Dreadful   
Herbology - Poor   
Potions - Acceptable_  ("How does that work?" George wanted to know. "The git doesn't even like the Slytherins.")  
 _Transfiguration - Acceptable_  
  
 _OWLs. in total - 3_    
  
It suddenly sank in for Fred. Horrified, he threw both letters onto the floor.   
  
He said sadly, "Now Mum'll never let us go to the Quidditch World Cup."   
  
He began hyperventilating. George prodded the parchment with his foot. When it made no attempts to bite him, he picked the letters up and folded them neatly, slotting them behind the letters for his other siblings.  
  
George grinned evilly. "You know what you need?"   
  
"What?" Fred moaned from behind his hands.   
  
His brother pointed at the cauldron sitting innocently in the corner. "A big explosion."   
  
Fred moved over to the cauldron and picked up one of his Weasley's Wizard Wheezes draft order forms, scanning it thoughtfully. "We really should have something that makes explosions. Then we wouldn't have to keep experimenting with the sulphur."   
  
It was at that moment the door growled and a few seconds later their mother was banging on the door.   
  
"Fred! George!" She kicked open the door and strode in. "Have you cleaned up your..."   
  
She trailed off, catching sight of the Hogwarts letters George had failed to stuff out of sight. It seemed for a moment that her face was going as red as her hair. Mrs. Weasley held out her hand. George handed over the letters without question. His mum shuffled through the stack and got theirs out, staring at the OWLs results, her lips moving soundlessly.   
  
Fred cleared his throat nervously. He would have to be cautious - he still had nightmares about the time he, George and Ron had arrived back home in the enchanted Ford Anglia with Harry.   
  
He said tentatively, "Well, we did our best, didn't we? Three's not too bad, hey, Mum?"   
  
Mrs. Weasley arched an eyebrow and in an instant she was full of her usual ranting. "THREE OWLs! WHY COULDN'T YOU BE LIKE BILL! OR CHARLIE! OR PERCY! YOUR FATHER AND I HOPED YOU'D DO BETTER!"   
  
"Geez, Mum, no need to shout," George cut across her. "See, we got Acceptable in Potions. That's extremely rare. You've been such a role model for us. We tried really hard to get an OWL in Potions like you did at school. We've tried to follow in your footsteps, because you are such an inspiring person."   
  
Fred looked at his twin, flabbergasted. Apparently, this was not a tactic he had considered. Flattery. Neither had Mrs. Weasley. Her mouth hung open, but then her eyes narrowed once more.  
  
"HITTING THE BOOKS CAN'T BE THAT HARD!" she shrieked.   
  
Fred muttered under his breath, "Hitting Malfoy is easier."   
  
Mrs. Weasley heard this, unfortunately, and grabbed him by the ear. She then took one of George's ears and marched them both down to the table, Hogwarts letters sticking out the front of her apron. Fuming, she dropped the twins into chairs and threw the letters in front of the rest of the family. Percy was still brushing his hair, Ginny was cautiously touching her own locks, Ron was singing 'Quidditch World Cup, lalalala' to himself and Mr. Weasley had just come out of the fireplace.   
  
"YOUR SONS!" their mum roared at her husband. "GOT THREE OWLs!"   
  
Mr. Weasley brightened. "Oh really? That's wonderful - I mean," he stopped as Mrs Weasley made moves to snap his own ear, "very bad, boys, very bad indeed..."   
  
Breakfast was a very quiet and awkward affair after that. If you're thinking things couldn't get any worse...think again.   
  
Mrs. Weasley rose from her chair, magicking her plate into the sink. She glowered. "I'm disappointed in you two. You can't even manage to clean your own room!"   
  
With that, she snatched her wand and dashed upstairs.   
  
Fred and George simultaneously looked at each other and chorused, "Bugger."   
  
There was a ghastly silence following this statement. Percy gave them a smug look and pulled out his work; his parchments were decorated with very large pictures of leaking cauldrons. The stairs creaked. Everyone jumped but Percy. Mrs. Weasley was standing on the bottom step, bundles of parchment held up in her fist. Fred smiled weakly. George attempted to say something, but he couldn't find a plausible excuse.   
  
"Fred, George," she whispered dangerously. "What exactly are the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"   
  
"Mine and George's future joke shop," Fred managed in a small voice.  
  
Percy snorted and suggested loftily, "It would be sensible to have them stay at home during the Quidditch World Cup, that is if we get tickets."   
  
The twins gave him the death glare. Almost telepathically, they decided to devise some cruel payback strategy to punish their brother. Something disgusting - and soon. Mrs. Weasley had gone red in the face, a feat she had now managed twice in one day.   
  
"Mum," George pleaded, "not the Quidditch World Cup!"   
  
His mother tightened her hold on the order form drafts. Her lips twitched. The door from upstairs growled. The ghoul dropped something huge and still no one moved.   
  
Mr. Weasley said timidly, "Molly, you can't really not let them go. They'll work harder this year."   
  
Everyone stared at him. It was unheard of, their father standing up for the twins for more than thirty seconds.  
  
Mrs. Weasley let out an exasperated sigh, but her eyes flashed. "So. These forms are what you've been spending all your time on. These items. I'll let you go to the Quidditch World Cup if you hand over this...junk. All of it!"   
  
Fred jumped, landing heavily on George's toe. George yelped and sprang up. They both scurried upstairs. George gave the door the customary kick and both tumbled in.   
  
"Percy's a git," Fred muttered. "We should send him something."   
  
George managed a tight-lipped smile, a plan forming. "Hey, do you reckon if we owl Charlie quick enough he'll bring some dragon dung with him when he comes?"   
  
Fred grinned. Evilly.


	2. Marauders vs. Weasleys

Much as Fred and George missed the Marauders Map that they had given to Harry Potter, they had been occupied with other pressing matters – such as, trying to write clearly enough on parchment for order forms. That had taken quite a while – the twins weren’t known for their academic ability. Then it was being expressively depressed about the Age Line separating them from the Goblet of Fire. Shame, but still there were things to occupy them (usually involving the plotting of new ways to skip class).  
  
Now, however, there was nothing but homework and endless summer days, most of which would be spent avoiding Percy. So when they were allowed to go to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, they had thought it the excellent opportunity to 'forget' about tate nasty Potions essay.  
  
They obviously didn’t realise that there were a couple of real pranksters hanging around the Order of Phoenix Headquarters. You really had to feel sorry for them.  
  
“Boys!” Mr. Weasley sounded at the end of his patience, which was quite a landmark victory for the twins. Yes, he was letting them go with him but no, they weren’t to attend the meeting.  
  
George wasn’t impressed. “Then what’s the whole point of us going?”  
  
Mr. Weasley paused for a moment, but he was spared from answering. A thud from the next room over brought a billow of dust and a string of curses from his wife through the door way. He replied simply, “Cleaning day.”  
  
“We were just getting ready, weren’t we George?” Fred said pointedly.   
  
They hurried up the stairs.  
  
Both administered the kick which knocked the door out of its hinges and hurriedly pulled Muggle joggers onto their feet. Fred and George finished up by stuffing Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes related parchment into their socks so that no lumps remained. They never knew where their next payment was coming from – mostly it was Lee Jordan or friends from school. They’d been hoping for something a little more broad.  
  
“We’re ready,” George told their father briskly, opening the front door more gently then any other in the house. He looked back after a brief silence. “Aren’t we going?”  
  
Mr. Weasley nervously fiddled with his baggy jeans (which were pulled up almost to the top his chest). “Your mother wants a quick word.”  
  
Fred exchanged a glance with his twin and opened his mouth to complain, but Mrs. Weasley appeared at the door, charmed feather duster in hand. She didn’t look too happy – it appeared the feather duster had gotten out of control. There were dirty patches all over her designated cleaning robes and she looked distinctly wild.  
  
“Fred, George,” she said in a voice just a shave off threatening. “If I hear that you’ve tried to give anything away, cleaning your room will be a mere discomfort.”  
  
There are few punishments (besides being pulled by the ear) that could have sounded just as bad. The twins nodded mutely and threw themselves out of the door. Mr. Weasley followed at a more relaxed pace, but only a little slower. From her bedroom window, Ginny glared down at them enviously. Cleaning day at The Burrow was not something to be taken lightly.  
  


* * *

  
  
After a quick detour where they were shown the location on a piece of parchment, Fred and George followed their father into the Headquarters. Mr. Weasley had anxiously told them to keep quiet and not to let their hands wander. However, Fred was more interested in touching everything just to see if it moved. He had become most attached to a painting half covered with curtains.  
  
Ignoring George tugging on his sleeve, he put a finger closer and closer until it was almost touching the artwork...  
  
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a man with messy dark hair remarked from behind him.  
  
The twins jumped and spun around hard. For a moment, they just stared at the stranger then something went click.   
  
George pointed a wild finger at the man and cried out, “Oh my God, it’s Sirius Black!”  
  
Fred looked around quickly. “What, where?”  
  
“Right there!” shrieked George, still waving his hand until it looked like it would drop off.  
  
Sirius shot a somewhat hopeful look at the painting, but no such luck. It erupted into screams that almost drowned the Weasley twins out. Almost. Mr. Weasley came bolting back into the corridor, wand drawn. When he saw the scene in front of him, he sighed and stuck the wand into his belt.  
  
“Hello, Sirius, these are the twins, Fred and George!” Mr Weasley bellowed over the racket, then helped Sirius pull the curtains across the screaming portrait.  
  
George stared at his father. Fred’s jaw fell with an audible crack. Abruptly, George started laughing at his twin.  
  
Fred joined in hopelessly and cracked his jaw again. “Sorry, double jointed. By the way, Dad, why the heck is he here?”  
  
“Because,” Sirius answered after shooting Mr. Weasley a look, “I can’t go anywhere without people behaving as you just did.”  
  
Fred hiccoughed; George kept sniggering. They didn’t seem to find the supposed murderer frightening – on the contrary, they were wondering what sort of pranks they could perform. George conjured a glass of water (ever since being allowed to do magic outside of school, they had gone into overdrive with mundane tasks) and offered it to his twin who took it gratefully.  
  
Fred coughed and put the glass aside.   
  
He grinned suddenly and said reverently, “Ooh, we’ve got to know each other better.”  
  
George nodded in agreement. Mr. Weasley looked at them suspiciously for a moment, then patted Sirius on the shoulder. “All yours.”  
  
“Right,” muttered Sirius, unsettled by the identical evil grins that the twins wore.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Arthur,” Sirius began threateningly, “if you leave me with them one more minute...”  
  
Mr. Weasley looked up from examining the Black family crest on a goblet and his eyes widened. The source of Fred and George’s laughter became apparent. Sirius Black’s hair was now neon pink and spiked so high that he almost couldn’t get through the doorway.  
  
Mr. Weasley brushed past Sirius and warned the twins, “Boys, if your mother hears about this one...” He sighed. “You don’t know what you are getting into.”  
  
Fred grinned around him at a glowering Sirius. “What could we possibly be getting into?”  
  
Sirius and Arthur looked at each other for a moment. Mr. Weasley smiled innocently, such a creepy sight that Fred and George shrank about an inch.   
  
Their father said flippantly, “Oh, nothing you want to know about.”  
  


* * *

  
  
George stepped inside the dim entrance of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, soon followed by Fred. It was very quiet except the snores from the portrait of Sirius’ mother. In that innocent moment when they were waiting for their eyes to adjust, they had no idea that war had been declared on them. None at all.  
  
Just as the twins were about to be able to see, blinding flashes of light came from every direction. George threw a hand over his face and tripped backwards over Fred. When the haze had cleared, they were looking up from the floor at Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.  
  
“Ouch,” Fred grumbled. “That wasn’t fair.”  
  
He scratched an itchy scalp. So did his twin.   
  
George blinked up at the attackers. “Professor Lupin? I think I hit my head harder than I thought.”  
  
“No,” Sirius corrected, eyes glinting. “We hit it for you.”  
  
Lupin produced a mirror, trying to hold back laughter. Neon pink seemed like a child’s trick compared to the sight that greeted Fred and George. Long flowing rainbow-streaked hair fell below their knees, but not far enough to conceal the large flipper-like feet the twins now possessed.  
  
Fred raked a hand through his hair, admitting, “Now, that was good.”  
  
The twins seemed to communicate on a telepathic level. They weren’t about to beaten – they might have lost this battle, but they were going to win the war.  
  


* * *

  
  
Running footsteps passed where an Order meeting was being held.  More feet thundered past and continued to go backwards and forwards for a while. No one was very amused when Mrs. Black started screaming and George started screaming back at her. There was an explosion and the sound of something solid hitting a wall.  
  
The twins had come across some carefully laid traps while trying to lay their own. It had seemed a most tempting opportunity to get it done while Sirius and Remus were at the meeting, but alas, they were outsmarted again.  
  
“I won’t stand for this!” grumbled Fred, trying not to twirl his frilly dress.   
  
George pirouetted past and finished off with a cartwheel.   
  
Fred managed to get a hold of his wand and charmed the dress away, still complaining, “We’re being out done.”  
  
George came past again, saying breathlessly, “It’s got to stop.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Though I’m pleased you’re getting out of the house,” Mr. Weasley cautioned, “if your mother finds out that you’ve been making those cheap tricks again...”  
  
George waved a purple spotted hand dismissively. “She doesn’t have to know, Dad. Now, if you don’t mind, we’re planning our revenge.”  
  
The door growled hungrily. Mr. Weasley sighed and walked out, pulling the door securely shut. Fred pulled out his wand and flicked it at the simmering cauldron. “Where were we before he interrupted?”  
  
“Right...here,” George said just as the surface of the fluid exploded into their faces.   
  
Both sprouted Pharaoh like beards and vomited periwinkle bubbles.  
  
“Excellent,” they said together.   
  
The door barked; the twins investigated. It had grown fur and its teeth were now pale green. The twins quickly changed their beloved door back (it now had orders to kill Percy on sight, if the git was daft enough to come back into the house).  
  
The next day would definitely be theirs.  
  


* * *

  
  
Fred and George peeked around the corner of the staircase and watched their targets approach. They grinned and gripped bottled potions, wands at the ready. Sirius and Lupin drew ever closer and it sounded like the latter was trying to dissuade Sirius from using Unforgivable Curses on the twins.  
  
“Three...two...one,” the twins whispered as one and jumped out of their hiding place.  
  
The vials exploded in front of their targets and the effects were immediate. They were also very accurate. Fred and George flourished mirrors triumphantly and watched the expression on Sirius Black’s face with interest.  
  
Sirius sighed and blubbed around a mouthful of bubbles, “That's it. I can't do this anymore.”  
  
“Have I seen you around?” Fred asked mischievously. “Sorry, but I don’t particularly want to give you my number.”  
  
While Lupin looked extremely Egyptian, Sirius looked, er, very feminine. The twins reversed their jinxes happily and George held out a hand to Sirius, saying solemnly, “Shall we call it a truce?”  
  
Sirius looked over at Remus despairingly. “What do you think, Moony?”  
  
“Wait a minute!” Fred demanded. “Did you just say what I thought you said?”  
  
“I think he did just say what we thought he did," George agreed.  
  
“It could be coincidence,” they chorused at the same time.  
  
Sirius and Remus had grown accustomed to the seemingly one sided conversations and waited patiently for the tirade to end. Fred said slowly, “It makes sense.”  
  
“It does, doesn’t it,” George mused.  
  
A light may as well have been lit over their heads. Fred asked calmly, with an amount of excitement creeping in under his voice, “You just called him Moony, Sirius, didn’t you?”  
  
“Yes...” Sirius couldn’t see where this was going.   
  
He exchanged a puzzled look with Remus.  
  
George said almost reverently, “Do the names Padfoot, Prongs, Moony and Wormtail mean anything to you?”  
  
“Or something called the Marauder’s Map?” supplied Fred hopefully.  
  
Their prankster opponents looked surprised. Lupin covered for the stunned silent Sirius, asking quietly, “How do you know about the Marauder’s Map?”  
  
George rolled his eyes. “Well, duh, we had it for a few years. Then we gave it to Harry.”  
  
“So spill,” Fred urged.  
  
Sirius explained shortly, “When we were at school together, I was Padfoot and he was Moony.”  
  
Fred bowed, saying theatrically, “We worship the ground you walk on, O master pranksters!”  
  
George copied his twin. The awe on their faces was apparent.   
  
George straightened up suddenly, “Oi, what about Prongs and Wormtail?”  
  
The two true remaining Marauders exchanged uncomfortable glances.   
  
Fred noted this and said diplomatically, “Perhaps over some Butterbeer? I have a feeling this is going to be a good story.”  
  
“Hm,” said George.  
  
Sirius grinned at the pair of them. “If you’re buying.”


End file.
